


Missing Kissing

by littlecloud



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Secret Santa, Smutty, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecloud/pseuds/littlecloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Into the flesh of his neck, giggling into the pricks of stubble, Charlie changed her tone, “No, Miles, I really, really missed you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Kissing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gizzi1213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzi1213/gifts).



“I missed you,” Charlie mumbled against Miles’ mouth, her hair wrapped around his wrists so they could not separate except for small breaths.  
  
He sighed, his warmth flooding her lungs, and then scraped her bottom lip with his teeth. The wall they were propped against made a moan under the pressure of Charlie’s ass, which was holding up the entirety of Miles’ body. She wrapped a leg around his waist.  They paused for a moment – his imagination losing itself on braiding the new little freckles that appeared on her cheeks. An angel. She was always so young, and so fresh, and so fucking annoying to be around, and even more annoying to be away from. “I missed you, too, kid. It’s been lonely without you.”  
  
Into the flesh of his neck, giggling into the pricks of stubble, Charlie changed her tone, “No, Miles, I really, really _missed_ you.” She reached between her legs to palm at him through his jeans. Their lower halves instinctively grinded together.  
  
“I missed you like this, too,” he said – a grunt.   
  
Had it been anyone else, he would be rolling his eyes, and pushing her away. For months, she had been gone. Willoughby, and the rest of the former United States, had been compromised by some conceited bastards calling themselves Patriots. And he’d been spending most of his time worrying about her. Her dumb way of making you want to be a good person, her naivety, her overconfident laugh, the patch of exposed skin between the hem of her shirt and button of her pants, the vague curls he could see peeking from her panties’ waistband. How she spoke constantly, even into orgasm, where she’d repeat his name again and again until he would have to hush her with his lips. She reminded him of everything that made him a bad person, including her; fucking his niece was arguably the most immoral thing he’s done.  Charlie was so good, so pure, so fucking wet against him right then.   
  
“So,” he hummed, swallowing, “you hadn’t replaced me for all these weeks?”   
  
She thought of Monroe, who had offered a truce via sexual contact a few times; she almost took him up on the offer, missing Miles so much that the closest, next best thing did not seem like such a bad idea. They traveled together all through Texas, and by then, she was aching for sex. But Miles – she couldn’t imagine taking anyone but him.   
  
“Of course not. No one could replace you.”   
  
As she spoke, Miles bucked their hips together one last time before beginning to shimmy out of their clothes. Pink had appeared on Charlie’s face, along with beads of her sweat. He kissed them away, and inhaled her grassy, girlish scent. When his mouth began to trail downward, towards her belly, he heard her whisper, “I only have one Uncle Miles.”


End file.
